


Bodyguard

by Hollybush



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, but not really, the bodyguard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 00:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollybush/pseuds/Hollybush
Summary: The thing is, this was supposed to be just another job.





	Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the idea but not so much the plot (or anything else, really) of the Kevin Costner-film. I don’t even know where this came from. One minute, I was belting along to ‘I have nothing’, the next, I'd written this.  
> (hopefully) needless to say: This is pure fiction. I admire Timothee, Armie and Elizabeth greatly and I hope to see them all flourish, but I don’t actually know any of them. I’ve basically borrowed their faces and their chemistry and put them in a different setting, just to see if I could. Hey, if ‘Episodes’ can do it…  
> The people in this fic have nothing to do with their real-life counterparts and none of what happens in this ditty is true to reality, nor should it be. Opinions reflected here are not even my own.
> 
> This is still inspired by Mr Aciman's book and I borrowed lines directly from him. He's a genius and anything that reminds you of his novel, is probably his. 
> 
> Now that that’s out of the way, I hope someone enjoys this

 

Bodyguard

 

*

 

It goes like this: he moves to LA to become an actor. He holds down shitty jobs to support himself in this endeavor because he doesn’t want this to be another thing he owes his parents for. Success or failure, it’s going to belong to him and no one else.

 

He scores tiny roles in shitty films and even tinier roles in less shitty films and then he does _The Social Network_ , which opens doors that, in hindsight, better had stayed closed. He makes a few wrong calls mostly because he listens to the wrong people. An abundance of faith in himself has never been one of his flaws. People attribute confidence to his appearance and his family inheritance, not his person. Comes with the territory of being rich and tall. People seem to think that growing tall also means growing confidence. It doesn’t.

He thinks he’s a decent actor, suspects he might become better if given half the chance but he’s too afraid of not being given that chance to turn down roles he knows won’t challenge him, because you know what? They pay the bills and he has parents to prove wrong and a family to support.

 

In the end, he doesn’t so much give up acting as he gives up trying. He’s tired of being offered the same parts and being turned down for other ones on looks alone. It stops being fun and he stops putting in much of an effort, which goes against his pride and the promise he made himself but there it is.

In some ridiculous twist of events, he ends up taking a gig as a sort-of-but-not-really-bodyguard for a friend of a friend who is very nearly-almost famous and she’s nervous about going to a club for a performance. Her boyfriend is somewhere in Armie’s circle and before he knows it, he’s been roped into accompanying the girl to a show simply because of his size. He wears a white shirt because it makes him look even bigger and boots because they look like they hurt. It works because people back away from her, not that there are that many who even try to come close, as soon as they realize he’s with her. The next gig she has, she asks him again and she gets her production company to pay him a rather decent amount of money for it.

After that, it just steamrolls like nothing else ever has. He doesn’t have to ask, audition, apply or even try. They just offer.

He’s offered days and sometimes weekends and he says yes because it’s easy money. He’s good at it too, which makes the whole thing a lot less tedious than it sounds.

 

It’s not what he dreamed of but it’s nice to be appreciated, to be genuinely wanted and depended upon and suddenly, he’s not months but years along and he hasn’t done any auditioning and his agent has pretty much forgotten he exists. He wants to feel something about it but he can’t get it done. It doesn’t feel real enough yet, because it never felt real in the first place. He’d never found a place for himself within the impenetrable walls of Hollywood and he supposes now he never will.

He’s been more places and met more movie stars in this job than he did before. The shit he’s got on people, he’d live off a profitable pay-out from any goddamn gossip columnist if he were so inclined. He isn’t because he likes to think he’s not an asshole but it takes some effort at times.

So yeah, he’s good at this job and he doesn’t hate it enough to walk away yet but he hates most of his clients. He’s considering whether or not he should just quit the whole damn LA scene or whether he should just quit _this_ and go back to giving it one more try on the acting front and maybe this time have the damn guts to give it his all and fuck everyone who thinks he doesn’t have what it takes, when he gets the offer he could but shouldn’t refuse.

 

*

 

It’s a shocking amount of money offered for what is basically a trip around Europe and some award shows after that. It’s months of following this kid around while he promotes a couple of movies that happen to have been released at the same time, and of course just in time for award season, so this guy has been nominated around the fucking globe and now needs to go and live up to the expectations.

He’s never heard of Timothy Chalasomething but apparently, he’s the cat’s meow and then some.

The guy’s people get in touch with him, offer him an amount that they increase with 20% when he seems in doubt, and then mail him a schedule and a bunch of plane tickets. They spend some time convincing him first, saying that this Timo _thay_ really needs his protection because he can simply not go outside without being harassed by fans and press alike but how the kid is reluctant and they’d prefer someone who isn’t necessarily a bodyguard-bodyguard but who can do the job all the same.

Frankly, that sounds like shit because shadowing someone’s every move sucks even when they _want_ you to do it. When they don’t, it’s like signing up for detention with a teacher that hates your guts. He tells them that in pretty much those exact words but they’re quick to assure him how it won’t feel like a job at all because of how nice and an all-round pure soul Timothay is, but he’s heard it all before and more importantly, he doesn’t actually care. He’ll do his job and he’ll get paid his 20% extra and that’ll be that. Besides, he’s never seen much of Europe.

Liz would have been pissed but it’s good money so she’s not. She kisses him goodbye with Harper in her arms and Ford in the stroller and they make a pretty picture standing in the airport lounge, waving at him. He’s not sure he’ll be missed as much as they make out, but then he’s not sure if he will miss her that much either (Liz, that is. He’ll miss Hops and Ford every damn day he’s away). They work well together, but they also work quite well apart and he knows that one of these days, the scales will have to tip one way or the other.

For now, though, he’ll focus on getting this kid through Europe and back in one piece and after that, he’ll see what’s what. He closes his eyes and leans back as the plane takes off.

 

 

*

 

 

The kid’s barely out of his teens. He’s just over 20 but he looks about 16 in some of the photos Armie’s found online and watching the handful of his interviews has him admitting that maybe his people had a point. He’s like puppy performing tricks. He’s so enthusiastic and humble and full of sincere self-doubt, Armie finds it almost painful to watch. He spends half the time unwillingly smiling and the other half wanting to yell at him through the screen.

Now that he’s met him, he’s absolutely sure his people did have a point. In fact, they should have called much sooner. He walks into the room just as the guy is rehearsing a speech for some kind of award show they’re doing tonight. He has to present something and he’s practicing in a dressing room as Armie walks in and he smiles the most ridiculous smile the moment he lays eyes on him.

“Hey man, you’re Armie, right? Listen, I gotta thank you. I know this must seem ridiculous and I think it kinda is but sometimes it gets a little scary, you know, so I’m really grateful you could do this…I’m Timmy, which, yeah…you know but, like…it’d be weird not to introduce myself, right?”

He says more things along those lines but Armie stops listening because it’s mostly platitudes and he’s not really interested. He takes a look around the room, the windows, the possible entrance and exit points and takes mental notes. He’s not exactly protecting the President but he still has to be aware of where any possible trouble may come from. He gestures at Timothée to make him stop talking and to continue whatever it was he was doing. The younger man seems abruptly embarrassed to still have been talking because he stops talking mid-word. It’s sympathy for the embarrassment that has Armie take over. He steps forward, hand extended and offers a polite smile.

“Timothée, right?” He attempts the correct pronunciation because he can be a douche all he wants in his head, he’s actually a professional and none of his issues belong to this boy.

“Right.”

“Right. I’m Armie. Nice to meet you. I’m just here to do my job, okay? So don’t worry about anything and don’t worry about me, you will sort of _have_ to know I’m here but I will stay out of your way as much as possible so just….do whatever you do.”

He waits for Timothée to acknowledge his words, anything to let him know he’s understood but instead he just stares. And stares.

“You’re really huge.”

He barks out a laugh because yeah, but no one ever says it this bluntly.

“Yeah, I know, but maybe you also look like you’re about 12, _Timmy_.”

Timmy smiles at him like he’s just paid him a major compliment and he feels himself smiling back. Fuck, he’s going to like this kid.

 

 

*

 

 

Trying to be a proper bodyguard to Timothée Chalamet proves to be a challenge. Not because the kid is too famous, because he’ll get there someday and that someday will probably be soon, but he’s not a celebrity yet so even though he has loyal fans that wait for him to show up at the festivals and the red carpets, he’s not of much interest yet to the paparazzi that follow the Toms, Brads and multitude of Jennifers around.

No, it’s nothing to do with his stature as an actor and everything with his inability to keep. fucking. still.

He’s like a flee on fire, he moves around so much. And not just moving in out of buildings and chairs and outfits, but even limited to a damn chair he’s like a cartoon character. He twirls and twists and bends. He falls down and jumps back up. He’s all over the place all the fucking time and it’s a good thing Armie is on alert and has developed a weird sort of fraternal instinct to keep an eye on him or he’d be going out of his mind. He’s a bodyguard, it’s in his job description to be attentive and watchful but damn if it isn’t a necessity here more than anywhere else.

He knows Timmy is unnerved by all the attention, all the cameras and the lights and the screaming people but it’s like he forgets himself once he’s seated or put where he needs to be and he has to do his job, whether that is handing someone some sort of award or giving a speech or doing interviews. He throws himself in it, all cylinders firing and absolutely zero brakes and Armie has to stand there and watch him edging closer and closer to the ravine.

He wants to tell him to slow down, be more careful, to not give so much of himself away but he also has a feeling that he’ll learn that lesson soon enough and he really doesn’t want any hand in changing anything about this boy. He wishes he could protect him from what this scene can do to him given half the chance, but no one can and he’ll have to settle for protecting him from physical threats if not psychological ones and fuck if he doesn’t resent the hell out of that because Timothée Chalamet is a fucking gem and he wants him to be this way always.

 

 

*

 

 

The thing is, Timmy’s nothing like anyone he’s ever had to bodyguard for (he’s not Kevin-former-secret-service-Costner for fuck’s sake, but he’s hired to do the job so he figures bodyguard is a verb as well as a noun). Anyway, he bodyguards for assholes, mostly, who believe in their own hype too much and are usually the instigators of such hypes themselves so whatever the fuck they want to have a bodyguard around for, it’s not for protection.

Timmy, though, is the absolute opposite of what he would have imagined him to be. With his fancy name and his fancier resume, he would have pegged him for a child star with too high an opinion of himself and lots of pseudo-deep opinions on art and acting techniques no one remembers, but he’s not.

For one, he’s smart as fuck. Uses words straight out of the great literary works and the Longman’s dictionary. There’s not an arrogant bone in his body. He’s humble and down-to-earth and self-deprecating to fault. He’s also funny and easy-going and so keen on making a friend out of Armie, that Armie genuinely feels like a prick every time he has to say no to hanging out, because he’s, you know, _doing his job_.

The look on Timmy’s face every time he shuts him down, actually hurts Armie in a way he doesn’t want to examine too closely and he’s not even sure where that shit is coming from. They don’t even know each other.

Except that they do, or _he_ does, because he’s with Timmy all the freaking time. He gets breaks, but not really because he’s always on call. He sleeps in the same space too because they tend to get adjoining rooms or suites with two bedrooms and he prefers it that way. He’s been offered a replacement for the nights or for a few hours a day so he can get his rest and they have someone on call for that, but he finds he prefers to just be there.

He genuinely likes Timmy and it’s starting to become a fucking problem. As much as the guy drives him crazy with all his moving around like he’s on a stage performing the lead in some sort of Russian ballet, all graceful twirls and poses, he cannot find it within himself to be annoyed. Timmy’s like a puppy, albeit a rather elegant and eloquent one, and he just wants to pet him and keep him as happy as he deserves to be.

So yeah, he feels like shit because Timmy’s not happy and a large part of that is due to him.

Maybe it’s because he’s already having to turn down Timmy’s often extended olive branches and he feels bad but really, he just likes the guy and he enjoys his time with him. He can’t be his actual friend and he can never really let his guard down because that would defeat his entire purpose but he can at least be there, instead of turning him over to someone else like he’s a chore.

He’s not.

Armie suspects that it wouldn’t even feel like a job, probably, if he wasn’t actively reminding himself of the fact all the time. Timmy will invite him to join his table for dinner or to come into his room and watch a movie or to come downstairs with him and have a drink and he declines all those offers but it’s starting to become more difficult with every day that passes.

It’s not just that he sees what it does to Timmy, who may be a very good actor (Armie has yet to properly see much of his work because he’s always in the back watching the crowd instead of the screen) but he’s shit at hiding his own emotions when he doesn’t have a character to disappear into. His face actually falls with every excuse from Armie’s lips, even though it’s not a damn excuse, it’s a fucking good reason, but it falls and it makes Armie’s stomach hurt. He gets it too because Timmy, for as much as he is surrounded by people all the time, spends quite a lot of time alone.

In between all the interviews and the rehearsals and the photo shoots, he doesn’t tend to leave his room. The circles under his eyes are changing from blueish to a rather worrying shade of black and even though he smiles all the time, his movements become a little less graceful, a little more jerky. He’s exhausted, Armie can tell. He knows because he hears the TV in the middle of the night and he hears the shower at 5 in the morning and he understands that Timmy… He’s barely 22 and he’s going through all this mostly on his own.

There’s his co-stars in the films, of course, and the crews he’s worked with, and they all dote on him and they lavish him with praise but they’re mostly veterans of the battlefield that is Hollywood and they either know the value of keeping to themselves or they have families to go home to. Timmy doesn’t have either of that. He’s not grown accustomed enough to the spotlight to be comfortable going out alone and even though he has friends and family that he speaks to plenty, they all have their own lives to lead.

Armie is a witness to it all but he’s not a part of it and he’s starting to think that his effort to be a professional is ending up being a bigger threat to Timmy than any outside force might be. He’s not sure if it’s the right move to make but that night, when Timmy says goodnight without looking at him and moves to disappear to his bedroom (something he’s been doing for over a week now, after having given up on asking Armie for company. Armie also thinks it’s kind of shitty that Timmy feels that he has to give up the rights to the living room part of the suite), he acts, or _reacts_ really because he’s not thought much further ahead.

But he watches Timmy disappear through the door and he feels like shit and before he loses the opportunity, he steps forward.

“What are you watching tonight?”

His voice actually seems to spook Timmy because he comes a rather jerking halt and he has a frown on his overly expressive face when he turns around.

“Huh?”

“I could do with a movie night or something. Maybe some Chinese food. There’s a place across the street.”

Timmy stares at him like he’s just made him a much more indecent proposal than this one. Though why that thought is even there, is a matter best left alone.

“I thought….I mean..”

And Armie knows what he’s going to say but he doesn’t finish saying it. Perhaps he doesn’t want to question it too much now that it’s offered.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t really wanna go outside though, I mean…to go for dinner, so I can…”

He watches the thoughts roll around on Timmy’s face, the realization that maybe he’s ruining his chance now and again seems to change his mind.

“Or, forget that, actually. I can…I’ll go change and then we can go…”

He turns around again and then immediately turns back, frown still in place.

“Wait, are you actually having dinner with me then, or are you just going to stand there while I eat because I really don’t feel like sitting alone and feeling like an idiot..”

Armie wants to tell him to knock it off with the self-deprecating shit and he suspects he probably will tell him soon enough because he’s been hearing him do this for weeks now and it’s starting to get on his nerves but now is not the time.

“How about I go get the food and you decide on a movie? I’ll be back in 15.”

He makes sure to hold eye contact because they both know this is Armie making amends even though he’s done nothing fucking wrong, but he wants Timmy to know he means it and this is not a fluke. He holds until the frown has turned into a careful smile. It’s not the smile he’s grown to love but it’s good enough for now.

 

 

*

 

 

Surely and not slowly in the slightest, they do become friends. Once he’d made one offer of dinner and a movie, Timmy apparently felt bolstered enough to renew his efforts while the iron was hot and even though he’s clearly unwilling to take the hit of another rejection, he’s clearly prepared for it the next time he asks.

Of course, Armie had known going in that this would change the equilibrium and so he’s found a new sort of balance in which he stays at a professional distance during events and any place that isn’t their shared living quarters, and letting go, just a little bit, when they’re in private.

It’s a habit now, when Timmy is without dinner- or other work-related obligations, to have food delivered and watch movies. Tim comes from an artistic family and he’s a trained actor to boot so he’s got extensive knowledge on movies and music but he’s also barely out of his teens which means he’s missed about a million classics. Armie has taken it upon himself, therefore, to educate him. Timmy seems delighted to have not just company but a friend these days, and lets him call too many shots.

Armie’s humbled but pleased to be so obviously liked and well….adored (it’s Timmy who used those words first, hiccupping an _I adore you_ , in between hors d’oeuvres and trying to contain his laughter at the shit Armie whispers in his ear) but it also makes him feel a bit untethered because a) it’s not a feeling he’s used to from anyone other than his kids and b) he’s not sure he understands their relationship or what he wants from Tim _at all_ and being unsure makes him want to hide. It’s always been that way. What he _is_ sure of though, is that he loves being around Timmy and that being around Timmy brings out the best in him. He can’t decide if his feelings are paternal or fraternal or if they’re weirdly close friends simply because of their circumstances or if they would have been anyway and fuck the circumstances but he does know they’re not _just_ friends

He knows this because sometimes, when it’s far past a decent hour and they’ve been watching movies late into the night and the TV is on mute and all the lights are off but they are still awake, still talking, still sharing, he feels Timmy’s hand next to his and he thinks that they’re almost holding hands and in those moments, he has to force himself off the bed or sofa because the feelings that come with those moments are too much, too much, too much and way too soon. He doesn’t look back at Timmy’s face when he does that because he fears that he’ll just see his own face staring back at him and he can handle his own pain, but not Timmy’s.

 

 

*

 

 

Most of the time, he doesn’t have to do much more than be there and look stoic or menacing, depending on the situation. Timmy’s not a big enough star to be threatened on a daily basis, and he’s not scandalous enough to have paps trailing him, but he’s enough on the rise to fame to be noticed wherever he goes by press and good-looking enough to be an object of interest to both men and women, regardless of his fame. People are starting to become aware of him outside of the film-and festival scene and it’s starting to both pay off and take its toll.

Mostly, that means having to push back the crowds a little harder and guiding Timmy through doors and into cars a little faster because any event involving a red carpet has security measures in place and he only has to be there for the individuals who manage to slip through earlier defense lines. That’s alright because most of the fans don’t mean any harm and giving them a firm look and a little shove does the trick. In those moments, he sticks close enough to Timmy to feel his body language before he sees it.

Tonight was one of those nights.

A fan who, if you ask Armie, is close to tipping into the obsessed bit of the pool, had somehow gotten close enough to them to take them by surprise. One moment, Timmy’s signing posters and DVDs and biceps and the next, some girl comes out of nowhere, grabs a hold of Timmy’s sleeve and starts pulling. Looking back, she might have only wanted a hug but in that moment, her action seemed to give the rest of the crown permission to do the same and within all of 2 minutes, it was anarchy. Armie had sprung into action the moment he realized she was not going to let go, threw his body around Timmy’s and pushed his way through the crowd hard enough to get people to step back, to let him scoop up Timmy’s body, suddenly so small and vulnerable, and walk off towards the waiting cars without looking back.

He hadn’t let go until they’d got back to their hotel. Timmy hadn’t pulled away either, reluctant to let go even once they’d arrived.

They were fine, no harm was intended but it unnerved Armie more than he wants to admit now that it’s over and Timmy’s safely ensconced in his room, wrapped in a hoodie that Armie used to own but has given up on ever getting back.

“Stop worrying, I can actually _hear_ you do it.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Nothing _did_ happen. Armie, I’m fine. I wasn’t even hurt.”

Timmy’s losing his patience but his face still carries that soft smile he has. He likes that Armie’s worried about him.

“Yeah, no thanks to me.”

“What are you even talking about? Nothing happened! There’s literally nothing to even blame anybody for.”

The fondness in Tim’s voice is making place for exasperation. It amazes Armie, even in this moment, that he can always see Tim’s entire thought process play out on his face. He’s an open book, yeah, but the true key is that he doesn’t try not to be. The trust that implies takes his breath away. It’s also exactly why he’s so pissed.

“They should never have come that close, though. I should have seen it.”

“You did see it, you got me away from there.”

“I should have seen it sooner.”

He runs his hand through his hair as he paces and he’s annoyed with himself for these tells. It’s not like him to lose his cool on the job.

“You mean before we even arrived there? Because it happened in like 5 minutes and you literally like full on carried me out of there.”

Timmy shifts on the couch and points to the empty space next to him.

“Now stop being a total curmudgeon and sit for a second.”

The begrudging _fine_ goes unspoken but it’s in Armie’s body language when he plops down on the couch. Timmy pulls back his feet a little more to make room for him and then dumps both feet into Armie’s lap unceremoniously. He lets it go without comment because he likes the warm weight.

“I don’t like that it happened because it will happen again and next time..”

“Next time, you’ll just swing me into your arms like the movie star that I am and you’ll gallantly carry me away from the danger.”

The words are mocking but his tone is more serious than he probably intended. There’s gratitude in it but a question too. Maybe he should tell Timmy that the adoration? Yeah, it goes both ways.

“I’ll just hoist you over my shoulder. Much easier.”

He laughs and tries to protect his side from the attack of Tim’s sock-clad feet but he knows none of what was said is a lie.

 

 

*

 

 

From then on, he sticks to Timmy a little closer. His body constantly poised to curl around Tim’s. He knows he’s getting a little too involved. It stopped being just a job a while ago but now it’s not even about the job at all. He wants to protect Timmy because he wants to _protect_ him. Against everything, against all of it. He wants to keep him tucked into his side, ready to fight his battles for him.

His extensive exposure to _Finding Nemo_ has taught him that that’s not exactly the healthiest way to feel but he can’t help it. Timmy’s so unbridled, so passionate, so irrevocably himself...It’s the most beautiful thing to behold at times but it also makes him nervous.

He tries to beset his nerves over woulds, coulds and what-ifs by keeping an eye on Timmy as closely as possible without actually living in his pocket. This is made a whole lot easier by Timmy actively seeking him out from pretty much the moment he wakes up until the moment he falls asleep.

The sleeping thing Armie’s given up on trying to rationalize as well. Ever since that first movie night, they’ve been sharing sofas and beds, just watching movies and talking until they drift of. If anyone would find out, it would sound like much more than it is. And it is something he should be able to tell his wife about. It is definitely something _he_ can tell _his_ wife about, but he hasn’t because it doesn’t feel like nothing. He just wants to know what it is, if it is anything at all, before he tells her.

Because what it is, is that he’s sharing his nights, his breakfast, his days and every moment in between with a person he doesn’t only like, but that he feels connected to, bound by nothing but the desire to be and the damn random luck of the universe.

 

 

*

 

 

The best part of all of it is how much fun he’s having. He hasn’t had this good a time in years, if he’s honest. Timmy is funny and interested in everything and just all around fucking spectacular and that makes for pretty good company.

They don’t have many opportunities to go out and do the things that friends usually do because this is still work for the both of them and when they’re done for the day, they’re exhausted and don’t even want to go anywhere anyway. Also, they’re stuck in this weird sort of space between friends and brothers and best friends and lovers. They could be all of those things, Armie knows, and he thinks that maybe they already are, lack of actual sex somehow unimportant in this definition.

He wonders sometimes, mostly when he wakes up in the middle of the night and finds them both angled towards each other, legs touching, their foreheads a breath away from pressing together, if this is just in his head and Timmy is just being Timmy. But when he wakes up in the morning and opens his eyes to Timmy’s staring at his face, he knows it’s not just him.

He doesn’t do anything about it either, though, because he knows that for all that he wants it and thinks Timmy wants it, he also knows that they shouldn’t.

And that’s not him being noble, that’s him being fair. He is married, he loves his wife despite whatever shit they have to make some choices about, he adores his kids and he’s got nearly a decade on Timmy. There might be a million parallel universes in which they might have found each other but in this one, it’s just not a good idea.

 

 

*

 

 

What goes up, comes down and as special as Timmy is, he’s not an exception to this rule. He’s been exhausted for weeks and they’re not even halfway through a press tour that keeps being extended, which means money for Armie, but more time away from home and more time alone for Timmy and even though he didn’t protest when they added more cities to his schedule, he saw the resignation in those eyes and Armie knew he was in for it.

Not that Timmy would ever take it out on him, but the look on his face as another day of press and people and bullshit ends and they take the car back to whichever hotel they’re camped out at, is starting to tear at Armie’s heart strings a bit more than he can handle.

It’s why he speaks up, and out of turn, the next time an extension is mentioned. He looks at Timmy’s face and then demands more than offers the idea of a break.

Armie hadn’t really planned on any big vacation but he and Liz had spoken about a quick escape to Malibu and Liz had gone ahead and booked a beach house and when it became clear he would not make it, she’d invited some friends to join her instead. He’s simply inviting another one, even though the word friends has yet to make it into the vocabulary of his relationship with Timmy. It’s neither here nor there anyway. The kid needs a break and Armie could do with seeing his babies. He misses them and Facetime only goes so far.

Tim looks at him with such a strange but intense mix of surprise and gratitude he knows immediately it was the right decision.

When they’re alone again, though, he has to explain.

“Malibu?”

“Yeah, we can meet Elizabeth there. She’s taking the kids. I’ll let her know we’re coming.”

He fishes for his phone but it’s more for show than to actually call home right now.

“You don’t have to do that, you know, you can just go on holiday with your family. I’m sure there’s someone who can fill in for you.”

He looks up to find Timmy smiling at him but it’s a wobbly smile, like the one he used to get when Armie said no to movies, no to dinner, no to _him_.

“I’m sure there is, but you look like you need a break. You telling me I’m wrong?”

The smile’s more real now but his eyes drop so it’s not better at all.

“No, but I don’t want to intrude on your family vacation, that’s totally weird. I’ll just take a few days off and wait for you to come back. It’ll be fine.”

He sighs and throws his phone on the table.

‘Tim, do you want to come or not? Because it’s not family vacation in that sense, there’s friends coming too, and I am inviting you to come. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can, if you do. So the only question you should concern yourself with, is whether or not you want to come.”

This time, his eyes smile.

“I _do_ want to come.”

“Okay, so what was this whole thing for? I’ll let Liz know, you order the pizza.”

This time, he gets that smile he’s always secretly aiming for. It feels like he won something, which in a way he did.

 

 

*

 

 

Liz is pretty fantastic in the sense that she’s hospitable and warm and affectionate and she knows him. They have their issues and he knows she wishes he’d be home more often and that he would just go back to acting and he wishes she would depend on their family fortunes a bit less and spend less time in Dallas because how would he even combine an acting career with running a company based in Texas but they have a true appreciation for each other’s ambitions and capabilities and a firm grasp on who they want to be and when they fell for each other, they fell wisely and well. What they wanted to be hasn’t really come into fruition yet and sooner or later they might have to pay the price for that but so far, they’ve been alright. He’s genuinely happy to see her and he adores being a father and his kids are terrific (he will not hesitate to say so himself), and they’re half hers so he’ll never not love her for that, at least.

Another thing he loves her and could kiss the ground she walks on for, is that she doesn’t bat an eye when he tells he will make Malibu after all, and he’s bringing Timmy.

Liz, of course, did his homework before he did and she’s seen all Tim’s films so she knows exactly how big Timothée Chalamet, star on the rise, is getting and she understands enough of fake glitter to know how overwhelming this must be. This means that the moment they reach their rented house, Liz is there to meet them, radiant in jeans and a sunny top, and she hugs Timmy as hard as she hugs her husband. 

Tim stares at her as she hoists Ford onto her other arm and shoves a plate of raw steaks into Tim’s arms. “You help my dashing husband with the grill, I’m on dessert duty. Hops is in the garden. Prepare accordingly.”

With those words and the swish of a shiny pony tail, she’s gone. He grins at Timmy’s speechless face and pushes him towards the patio doors.

Harper falls ass over tea kettle in love with her father’s guest, which might be mostly the result of Timmy letting her put glittery sea shells in his hair after combing it within an inch of greasy exhaustion. That, in turn, might be the result of him falling just as hard for her. He’s the first one to join her in front of the TV in the morning and wherever they go, she is always allowed a piggy back ride. Liz shakes her head at it and admonishes him for letting her turn into a demanding monster but she laughs as she does so and so he laughs too and lets it go.

Armie notes with great satisfaction how good this time away has been for Timmy because when they pack up to return after barely a week, the circles are mostly gone, his skin has a healthy tone once again and he’s smiling as brightly as he did when they first met. He stands by, having kissed his wife goodbye very thoroughly in private and he tries not to think about the look on her face as she told him to “have fun and be careful with him” because asking what she meant by that is opening a can of worms he’s not sure yet he wants released.

She’s saying goodbye to Timmy now. Harper, having cried and stomped her displeasure at their leaving earlier, is now passed out in the backseat, and the way Liz is touching Timmy’s arm and then his cheek tells Armie she’s probably giving Timmy the same sort of advice. He thinks for a second that maybe bringing Timmy here to meet his wife was a mistake but then he sees their matching smiles and thinks that it really wasn’t.

On the plane back to Europe, and for the life of him he can’t remember which country they’re off to now, he watches Tim sleep, looking both younger and older than ever, and he wonders when exactly this guy became such a big part of his life that he ranks his happiness as highly as he does his family’s. He determinedly does _not_ wonder what that means.

 

 

*

 

 

Tim pulls back a little after having met Liz. Armie can’t be sure if she’s the reason of course, because it’s not like he’s going to ask, but it sets in right after they get back so it’s a pretty safe guess.

He’s happy with his wife, generally speaking, and he knows Timmy must have seen that. He doesn’t know how to explain to him that it doesn’t mean he’s happy with his life and that it certainly doesn’t man he can’t feel things for him too. Or, he doesn’t _want_ to explain that because that would mean also having to explain he has feelings in the first place and they haven’t talked about that at all and they probably shouldn’t and honestly, what good would that even do? This is still a job and it ends when this promo tour is over. It will have to end because if it doesn’t…well, for it not to end, something would have to happen first and frankly, it’s all too confusing to even think about.

The only thing he knows is that he doesn’t like this distance. He might have been grateful for it a few months ago but fuck that, they’re _something_ now and this shit doesn’t fly.

“What’s up, Tim?”

He calls him Tim and that’s enough to make it clear he’s serious.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, and you know this so why even make me fucking say it, that you’ve been acting different since we got back from Malibu.”

Timmy shuffles back and forth a bit, his toe tracing a line on the floor and runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t think so..”

“You _know_ so, as do I, so cut the crap and just tell me why. Should I not have brought you? Because you seemed pretty happy.”

More scuffing, and his hair getting wilder with each hand moving through it and no fucking eye contact.

“I was, it was great…I can’t thank you enough for that, I really can’t, I mean…”

He interrupts because he knows the road Tim’s about to go down and he has exactly zero patience for it right now.

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

It’s silent for a while and he can actually see Timmy working through possible answers before he halts on one and even before it makes it out of his mouth, Armie knows it’s going to be a lie.

“I just...I don’t know, man. I think maybe I just wish I had that, you know…not now. I know I’m too young and all but…”

“Bullshit.”

He takes a step closer and they must have been a lot closer than he thought because suddenly they’re right there, bodies taut, almost touching but not quite.

“It’s not bullshit, I loved it. You have this really amazing family..”

“I know, and I’m sure you meant what you said but that is not why you’re being distant all of a sudden.”

His muscles are so tense they feel ready to snap.

“Armie…”

“The truth, Timmy.”

God, they’re close.

“You don’t want me to tell you the truth.”

“I think I do.”

He holds his breath a little as Tim’s eyes go to his lips.

“You don’t, can’t you just take my word for it?”

He breathes out and lets go.

“No.”

He presses their lips together. His one arm goes all the around Timmy’s neck and his other snakes around his back, it’s a hug as much as a kiss and it’s only now that he realizes how much he’s been wanting both.

Timmy makes a whimpering sound, there’s no other word for it, and it makes Armie pull back but as soon as he does, Timmy presses back into him, his hands fisting in Armie’s shirt and his tongue sneaking out to lick at his bottom lip.

It’s a much longer kiss than they should have the breath for but when he pulls back, gasping for breath but also wanting to laugh in elation, Timmy pulls him back in and hides his face into his neck.

“Don’t go.”

He can barely make out the words but he knows Timmy and he knows his fears.

“I’m not going anywhere, T.”

At that, the younger man finally allows some space to come between them. He takes a tiny step back and looks up at Armie.

“But you….you..?”

And because Armie understands his fears but his worries too, he knows the question Timmy’s asking.

“Of course me too, Tim, what did you think?”

“I thought it was just me…I thought I was making it up because I wanted it so much.”

And this, this is what will kill him, because Timmy is so open and honest, so willing to be vulnerable, it makes Armie want to curl his 6.5 ft body around him in protection.

“You didn’t. I’ve wanted you from day one, I just hid it better.”

Timmy takes a step back, shaking his head, confusion plain on his face.

“But your family…you love Liz, don’t deny it.”

“I wouldn’t deny it. I do love Liz. I love her more than I can ever express.”

He takes another step back then a larger one forward again.

“So, then…”

Armie can’t fool himself anymore and he doesn’t want to fool Timmy, not when Timmy has no chance of fooling him. He reaches up, lets his fingers trace a cheekbone, folds a curl back into its rightful place.

“It’s possible to love more than one person, Tim.”

He lets him process that without explaining. Their understanding works both ways.

“One of the things I love most about Liz is that she knows me so well and doesn’t try to change things she knows she can’t. I also think she knows.”

“She knows? About this? That you…..”

He still seems unsure so Armie will give him this one.

“That I wanted you… _want_ you, yeah. She knew back at the beach, anyway, I think she knew as soon as she saw you.”

“And she’s not gonna…”

“What?”

“I don’t know, hire an axe murderer?”

“Nah, that’s not her style. It’d be more subtle, less bloody.”

“That’s very comforting.”

“I’m here for you, man.”

They both go still, the seriousness of the situation, of all the changes this will entail, dawning on them once again.

“Yeah you really are. Thank you.”

His lets his thumb rest just below his eye, soft but present and waits for Timmy to look him in the eye.

“Nowhere I’d rather be.”

This time, when he kisses him, he makes sure to breathe.

 

 

*

 

 

It’s one thing to realize you’re in love with the person you’re supposed to be protecting from any and all possible threats, it’s another to admit this and having the other person reciprocate your feelings.

It’s quite another to discard your duties and sneak into broom closets and let said person climb your body and ruin every decent shirt you own. Or to get on your knees in empty dressings rooms (or once, an empty hallway which turned out not to be empty for long). Or to lie and claim Timmy’s not feeling well so they can stay in bed an hour longer. None of these feelings are new but they are old enough to be new to him and he can’t seem to stop _wanting_.

Their routine of dinner and a movie has now turned into sex, followed by dinner, followed by more sex, sometimes with a movie on in the background and then more food and more sex until it’s time to get out of bed and do their job.

He’s obsessed with Timmy’s body and it shows. He knows he should hold back because he really can’t send Timmy off to his stylist covered in marks and bruises and stubble rash but he does, because he fucking loves leaving marks on that pale body and watch them try to cover it up and know he’s going to do it all over again later that day. Of course, he wouldn’t if Timmy would ask him not to, but he doesn’t. Instead, he fucking begs for it, he admires them in the mirror and struts around the bedroom, showing them off like they’re Harry fucking Winston.

It’s mesmerizing and magnificent and leaves him half hard all day long. Timmy knows it does because the smirk he he’s been giving him all day is smug as hell and he’s going to make him pay for that tonight. He’s already sent him a text to let him know as much and the smirk got even bigger and impossibly more smug.

Fuck, he loves him.

It’s not a shock or even much of a surprise. It snuck up on him, true, but he’d more or less known back on that plane from Malibu and it’s had time to sink in. He hadn’t known it would turn into this, of course, how could he have, but it has and he’s thrilled. He hasn’t been this happy in far too long and that is something he’s going to need a bit more time for.

 

 

*

 

 

What they do, belongs to them alone but what they are, they can’t hide. Not completely. It helps that Armie is supposed to be there all day, close to Timmy in every sense and no one really questions his presence, or his tendency to stick just a little too close.

No one, that is, but Tim’s family. They know why he’s there, of course, but they don’t know why he’s _always_ there, nor do they understand why Tim is so reluctant to go anywhere without him.

It’s that reluctance that has the Chalamets cooped up in the suite, drinking wine and playing cards. Armie’s caught wrong-footed. That is; one foot in familiar and professional shoes and one foot in the muddy waters of his relationship with Timmy.

He settles for joining them for dinner, seated next to, but not within reach of, Timmy but withdrawing to his bedroom for the rest of the festivities. He feels Timmy’s eyes following his every move until the door closes behind him.

Later, when parents and siblings and cousins have disappeared to their own hotel rooms, Tim knocks on the door and it’s hesitant but it’s also immediately followed by the opening of the door and if that doesn’t sum up Timothée he doesn’t know what would.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t move from his bed but he does put down his book and smiles, a genuine smile because he’s been a bit off tonight but it’s not due to Timmy.

“Hey. How was the reunion?”

“Good.”

He can tell Timmy wants to say things but honestly, there isn’t much to say. Yes, they’ll have figure out where this is going at some point and Timmy will have to decide how much he wants to tell his family but other than that….

He pats the spot next to him and motions Timmy over.

“Come here.”

And Timmy does. He toes off his shoes, crawls on the bed and lays his head on Armie’s chest, ear pressed unavoidably against his pounding heart.

He wants to tell Tim that the thump, thump, thump, is all due to him, so he does. Timmy, in return, tightens his grip on Armie’s shirt and whispers the words into the fabric that Armie’s been wanting to hear. His voice when he whispers them back is husky.

 

 

*

 

 

They can’t really go on a date because reasons, obviously, and even if they could, it would be rather late in their relationship for a first date but they have one anyway, just because they fucking can.

They’re in London and the tabloids in the UK are the absolute worst but the people in Hampstead don’t care about celebrities all that much, mostly because they either are one or there are more famous people just around the corner. So, they dress down and hide away in the back of a pub. They order ales they don’t like but drink anyway and giggle more with every one they order and they have an all-round fantastic time.

There’s a guy who maybe recognizes Timmy when he goes to the loo but the selfie he takes is blurry and Armie’s nowhere near it so it doesn’t really matter all that much.

They stumble their way back to the hotel, laughing and fumbling their way through a badly accented _500 miles_ and they make out like teenagers as soon as the elevator doors close. When they get inside their room, Timmy presses Armie against the bathroom door and kisses him, kisses him, kisses him.

Armie lets him until he can’t take it anymore and then he flips them around, presses his lower body into Timmy’s so he knows the score and drops to his knees. The hands in his hair are soft but firm and they pull him back at the last second.

“I don’t….not yet…I want…”

Timmy’s lost the ability to speak but Armie knows what he’s saying because of course he does so he leads them both to the bed and pulls Timmy’s smaller body into his lap.

They get rid of their clothes in a scurrying manner that might have been unsexy if there was such a thing and when they’re ready and Tim sinks down on him and heat envelops him, he hides his face in Tim’s neck, pulling and pulling and pulling at his curls to stop himself from fucking  _howling_.

 

 

*

 

 

They should probably talk about what will happen next. They don’t, which Armie feels fucked up but also fine about because it’s not like he has a fucking clue.

They talk about everything else though, so there’s really only one elephant in the room and if they wait long enough, it’ll be forced out by default. Not making a decision is a decision too. Armie knows that better than most.

 

 

*

 

 

They get into a fight, mostly because Timmy takes him by surprise by bringing up his acting career, or lack thereof.

“How come you gave up acting?”

And he almost chokes on his drink because they’ve never even discussed his past as an actor. They’ve talked about pretty much everything else but he skipped past that quite on purpose. He doesn’t provide an answer so much as a look. It must be enough because Timmy has the decency to look a bit apologetic.

“I watched _The Social Network_.”

Great. Here they go. That fucking movie.

“So?”

“So…you’re amazing.”

“I’m really not.”

“Are you serious right now? Armie, you’re incredible in that movie.”

“Thank you. Now can we put the movie in?”

“No, I want to know why you’re even doing _this_ , when you could be doing _that_. Dude, you’re like…”

“I’m what? One of many. That movie was a fluke. It’s well-made and it makes all of us look better than we probably are and it was great but I was never going to make the cut..”

“What are you talking about? That movie’s only a few years ago, you can go back to auditioning and just…get back to acting. You’re wasting your time doing this.”

“If you want me to quit, you can just say so.”

The look Timmy gives him tells him he’s being a childish asshole and he knows it’s true but it only serves to piss him off even more.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want, how did you guess? This whole thing is just so I can get you to fucking leave me, like that is something I would ever want!”

He’s upset and when he’s upset, he cries. Another lovely upside of having graduated from acting school is that you apparently don’t get taught not to cry.

Armie abandons the salad he was eating and moves to get up. He’s aimless, just wants to _move_ , but it sets off panic in Timmy, who jumps up as well, meal forgotten.

“Armie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring this on you, I just wanted to know…I watched that movie because …because it’s _you_ but then I was so blown away by you…I just don’t understand it. You’re incredible in that movie.”

He takes a very, very deep breath. He needs to collect himself and his instinct is always to leave, just leave and not return until his bearings, his walls, are back in place but it’s literally his job to be near Timmy and so he can’t.

“I’ve thought about it. I still do sometimes. It was difficult, I don’t know how I’m ever going to be good enough. I don’t think I have the chops to pull it off and it’s easier to not try than it is to try and fail…but I am thinking about it. I was, before I took this job, and maybe after this….”

“I hope you do. I mean, I don’t want this to actually ever end, but…I hope you do.”

He nods because he appreciates all the things Timmy’s holding back.

They don’t speak of it anymore but that night when they’re side by side and he’s got his arm around Timmy, his nose tucked into a mop of dark hair, Timmy whispers

“You have the chops, Armie.”

And then he turns and goes to sleep and Armie thinks that maybe if this kid, who can do things as an actor others can only dream of, believes he has the chops, maybe he should give it another try.

 

 

*

 

 

It was always going to end and when it does, they don’t make a song or dance about it. They both knew it was coming and they’ve been a little more prickly these past few days but they’ve also been more desperately clingy. Neither of them wanted this moment to come, but they’ve had this deadline looming from the start and it helps that they’ve been dreading it together.

So there’s no soundtrack. They say goodbye because they have to for the moment. There’s no one to say it has to be forever but then there’s no one to say that it’s not, and that makes it feel like a _goodbye_ more than a _later_.

They stand at the departure hall, surrounded by so many others they’ve been travelling with and there’s simply not going to be a moment of privacy. He’s glad for it but at the same time resents everyone that dares to be in that same space.

He looks at Timmy, extends his hand and he doesn’t smile. He’s transported back to the moment they first met, when he did attempt a smile and had no idea he was at the beginning as well as the end of something.

_“I don’t want you to go.”_

_The words were whispered into his skin as he held tightly and tried to not break down as hard as Timmy had just now._

_He doesn’t say anything._

_“I know” would mean nothing, “I don’t want to go” would be true but it would change nothing and “I love you” would turn the words into a weapon if spoken in this moment. Like a promise to be broken at the first opportunity._

_He’d said nothing and held on._

He hated every single moment of their drive to the airport, he hates having to pretend his life wasn’t turned upside down and he hates the entire flight spent on trying to remember who the hell he was before he came here.

 

 

*

 

 

When he gets home, Liz takes one look at him and knows enough. What she doesn’t know, she makes him tell her over a plate of his favorite pasta and he doesn’t try to deny it or fool her with half-truths.

When he’s done, she hugs him, tells him she loves him and sends him to sleep in the guest room. He’s allowed back the day after but she tells him he has to make a choice in the end.

She knows him, she gets it and she’s never been fussy about letting people be who they are but she doesn’t want to share her husband with someone he loves more than her.

That’s not sharing, she says, that’s compromise. And compromise, as she has often reminded him, just means agreeing to settle for less than you want.

That’s just not who she is.

He loves more in that moment than he ever has before. So he tells her that and her laugh turns exasperated.

“Go and try, before you say things like that again.”

“What?”

“Don’t what me, husband. You speak my language, you know exactly what I mean. Go. Go stay with him and figure it out.”

He wonders if she’s been In this position during any of the times he’s been away and if the fact that she’s still there means he’s always come up winning, or if she’s in the situation right now and she’s just as unsure of the outcome as he is.

Then again, maybe he’s only thinking that to ease his guilt.

In the end, which comes when he snaps one time too many because he can’t deal with Timmy on Facetime even though it’s always, always, always better than nothing, they agree on a month. He can go for a month and then he’ll come back for a stay, with or without Timmy, to spend a few weeks of quality bonding time with the kids, after which Liz will get her well-deserved holiday away from all the hassle. Which in Liz’ case means going off to Texas to join the hassle there.

“Are you sure?”

He’s already packed and his taxi’s pulled up but he still feels he should ask. He shouldn’t have because it wipes the smile straight off her face and the look she gives him is one he only gets when she’s well and truly pissed at him.

“Armie, don’t. Even if I wasn’t, you’d go. We both know this, so don’t insult me by pretending otherwise. The best thing about us has always been that we like and respect each other. No matter what happens, that doesn’t have to change.”

“I love you, though.”

“Yes, I know. I never believed otherwise.”  But there’s a sadness in her voice that he doesn’t think he’s heard before. He’s not convinced it wasn’t there before though. Maybe he’d just been ignoring it. Maybe they both had.

 

 

*

 

 

He could have gone Hollywood style and shown up on his doorstep with flowers and a speech but all he wants is to get off the plane and to Timmy, no stops in between, and his speech sort of begins and ends with _please_ so all he’s got is the doorstep. It’ll have to do. Or it won’t, but then flowers wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference anyway.

They’d been in touch nearly every day, the Snap chats and Insta stories flying to and from and Facetiming when given half a chance. Timmy had even spent a memorable evening (for him)/afternoon (for Armie) watching Cars with Hops via Facetime. She’d been so ecstatic at seeing both Timmy’s face and the film at the same time, that she’d passed out about halfway in. Neither had hung up though, letting the movie play out and staying connected until well after the closing credits.

They’d said nothing but when Timmy had to go to sleep, he took his phone with him and smiled into the camera until he passed out. Armie had spent the rest of the day on the verge of crying, which in turn made him feel pathetic and like an asshole of colossal proportions.

He spent the next week trying to ignore his phone and snapping at Elizabeth until she’d nearly thrown his phone at him and ordered him to book a flight or a hotel because no way was she putting up with this any longer.

So here he is. 

Which is why it really fucking sucks that Timmy isn't. 

 

 

* * * 

 

 

Timmy never ever would have expected to come home to find Armie Hammer on his doorstep, head tipped back against the door, mouth open, asleep.

He’d never ever would have expected him to show up at all.

He’d wanted him to, wished for it in quietly drunk moments that tend to follow drunk raucous ones and he’d very nearly asked him to, during that weird-ass Facetime where he’d called in for a movie date with Harper but hadn’t been able to focus on the film for even a second.

_Come to New York._

He’d thought it on repeat the entire call, up to where he fell asleep staring at Armie’s face. He’d almost pleaded.

_Come to New York and let me remind you that you miss me. That you love me. Do you still?_

_Come to New York before you forget me and everything about us that makes me want to cry and beg right now._

He’d said none of it out loud but his thoughts, deafening in his own head, might have been heard across the continent because…well. 

He steps forward slowly, knowing he has to wake him, wanting to wake him but oddly reluctant to do so.

“Armie.”

Nothing. 

“Hm?”

“Armie”

And all of a sudden, blue eyes are wide open, body protesting loudly as Armie tries to unfold it from its uncomfortable position. 

“Yeah! Hey. Wow, I …I did not mean to drool on your door.”

He seems smaller than he is, somehow, with his shoulders turned in a bit and a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Hey, Timmy.”

“You coming in?”

He grins and it's so familiar Timmy's stomach clenches. 

“You think I sat here for 5 hours for the fucking hell of it? Course I’m coming in.”

Timmy unlocks, lets them both in and drops his keys, his shoes, his coat where they belong but after that, he can't ignore it any longer. He can't just pretend this is how it was supposed to go. 

“Armie…what are you doing here? I mean, I’m glad you’re here, I wanted you to come..I mean, I almost asked you to..well, never mind. I’m _really_ happy, but..”

Armie sighs but it's a sigh more of acceptance than reluctance. He drops his bag by the sofa and looks at Timmy.

“But?”

“But I didn’t expect you to. You only just got home.”

Armie scoffs at that but only a little. What really gives him away is the hand on his neck. 

“Yeah, turns out I missed you.”

Timmy knows he shouldn't be taken aback by this, he's been missing Armie just the same, but he is. 

“You did?”

“Course I did, T, the fuck?”

“I just…I didn’t think..”

Armie's eyebrows shoot up in that grotesque way he has, a look that makes it instantly clear that as far as one Armand Hammer is concerned, you're an idiot. 

“Didn’t think that I’d miss you? That I hated saying goodbye? That I want you in my life?”

_Oh. Well._

“Yeah…”

“Well, I do. I was sort of hoping you felt the same…”

Timmy's head comes up and he takes a step toward Armie so quickly, he nearly trips. Armie, of course, is there to steady him. 

“You know I do.”

Armie nods and Timmy finds himself nodding with him until they both grin. 

“Okay, good. Good. So…can I kiss you?”

It's tiptoes and a smile then. 

“Yes _please_.”

 

 

*

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. Like I said, I don’t even know.  
> RPF is a completely new beast and I’m probably back to Oliver and Elio now but man, this was a fun one night stand.


End file.
